to tear the skin. "Should stop her spitting. Any poison get you?"
"A little. Nothing I can't scratch off."
"You did good with the bus."
"Thanks." Behind us, motorbike engines rattled to a halt, and tires screeched. "Time to go," I said.
"Yeah." He passed his hand in front of her face. "Arachne?"
"Mmph." Her voice clogged through the tape.
He clicked his fingers. "Wake up."
Her eyes snapped golden. Scarlet shame bled in, stained black with poisoned fury. Glimmer grinned, and we ran.
Two motorcycle cops ran for us, guns drawn. They still wore their helmets, visors down. "Freeze!" one yelled, muffled.
Yeah, okay. Let me wait here while you arrest me. Idiot.
Arachne struggled and cursed, vile and skin-crawling even through the tape on her lips. Glimmer jumped on his bike and kicked the engine. I vaulted on behind him, and he gunned it, the back end sliding out.
The cops shot and missed. Bullets zinged. I held on tight, ducking my head against his back. Glimmer rode for the piled-up cars, and instinctively I squeezed my eyes shut. The engine revved, brutal. Suddenly we were airborne, weightless for a few glorious, ear-splitting seconds. And then we hit the road, and bounced, my bones jarring.
The engine grunted in protest. I whooped, exhilarated. He skidded the bike into a turn, scattering broken metal fragments, and we howled away.
By the time we reached Glimmer's hideout, dawn's gleaming fingers crept along the horizon. No streetlamps lit the back alley where he eased the bike down the ramp. Somewhere in the dark, the iron grille clattered aside, and we rolled in. Once the grille slammed shut, orange security lights popped on, revealing a deserted underground parking lot, and he stopped the bike in its alcove and shut off the engine.
I climbed off, stiff and weary, my nerves still jangling. I hadn't forgotten how easily he swept Arachne under his power. Sure, I was dangerous, too, but at least everyone could see what I was doing. Glimmer's augment was insidious, invisible, unknowable.
My stomach turned over, watery. Mindbenders gave me the creeps. What had I let myself in for?
An electric combo-locked steel door like a safe led to his lair. Inside, his screens still flickered, information and images flowing, collating, like the thing had a brain of its own. Cool, but spooky, too. Glimmer tossed his gun onto the desk-shaped mess and headed for the fridge. "Want a beer?"
"Huh?"
He paused, the door half open. "Beer. You know. A drink?"
"Uh. Sure." I dragged off my sweaty mask, uneasy. I was thirsty. That wasn't the problem. I'd already taken too much from him. Taking meant debt, and I wasn't sure owing a dark and mysterious mindfucker who wouldn't take off his mask was a particularly stellar idea.
He tossed me a bottle, and I caught it. At the sight of the amber fluid, my mouth stung. I sure could use one. Screw it. I wrenched off the top and chugged. Mmm. Cold, bitter, bubbly. All that a beer should be.
Except free.
He cleared a space on his dusty sofa, pushing aside a pile of green circuit boards and memory chips. "Have a seat. Make yourself at home. Mi casa, and all that."
I sat, fidgeting. Did he think I was going to stay here, in his place? Fact was, I hadn't thought about what I'd do next. Could I sleep here, with him around?
Did I have anywhere else to go?
I took another bitter swig. Damn him. Damn them all. Razorfire, Equity, Mengele, Arachne, those cops on the bridge, whoever it was at FortuneCorp who'd dumped me in this mess. Once, I had a life. Now, I had nothing.
Except my revenge, and this flashing time bomb of an ally.
Watch me, he'd said. And Arachne stared into his eyes, and her will dissolved.
Glimmer slouched in his desk chair, stretching his long legs, and leaned over to clink bottles with me. "Cheers. Here's to another Gallery shitball in custody." He swallowed half his beer in a long chug, cold drips running down his strong forearm. He had a long, lean throat, olive skin dappled with soft dark stubble…
Uh-huh. Staring. Not cool.
I coughed, and dropped my gaze. He still hadn't taken off his mask. Didn't seem inclined to, at least not in front of me. Heh. Maybe I should creep up on him while he slept and take a peek, like lovesick Psyche, who couldn't resist shining a lamp on her mystery boy toy.
Yeah. Because that ended well. Boy toy turned out to be Cupid, and Psyche lost him forever. Secret identities, see. They never work out for the best.
"Ah. That goes down fine." Glimmer wiped his mouth with the hand holding the beer. "You up for breakfast? I do a mean omelet—"
"Could I stop you?"
He paused, beer halfway to his mouth. "What?"
"If you pulled your look-into-my-eyes trick on me." I took a hot breath. "Would I even know about it?"
He studied me, silent, his midnight eyes warm and inscrutable. "Probably not," he admitted at last.
"Could I stop you?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I never know until I try."
"That's not an answer." My mouth crisped. I swallowed more beer. It didn't help.
"It's the only answer I can give you. You're a force-bender. That power comes from your mind. You might have some resistance—"
"Don't bullshit me!" I slammed my bottle down and jumped up, pacing.
"You want me to do it to you? So you know how it feels?"
"Why the fuck would I want that?"
"Hell, I don't know." For the first time, tension stretched his whiskey voice to a harsh edge. "I'm trying here. I've been by myself a long time. I don't know what else to give you."
"But—"
"Think!" He spun his chair and pointed at the desk, where his pistol lay. "You could shoot me right now. Hell, I imagine you could cave the roof in and crush me to pulp any time you wanted. So why don't you?"
Because I'm not a bad person. I cleared my throat. "I hardly think that's—"
"There's nothing in it for you, that's why." He ruffled his hair, weary or frustrated. "I told you. We can help each other. I couldn't have trapped Arachne without you. If you weren't there, I'd probably be dead right now, so tell me why the hell I'd want to hypnotize you!"
To make me stay. My mouth opened, the words alive on my tongue.
I swallowed them.
I've been by myself a long time. His words echoed, bitter. I'd seen the look on his face when he spoke them. I'd worn it myself, through long hours abandoned in Mengele-inflicted agony, and as I looked at him, my heart swelled hot and uncomfortable.
I knew how it felt, to be so utterly alone it hurt. He needed a friend. And—God help me—so did I.
I stalked up to the console, and poked the touchscreen until it exploded with virtual 3D images. I flicked through the pile, keeping some, discarding the ones I didn't want. Finally, I flipped the whole thing though ninety degrees so he could see, and pointed at the first one, a handsome blond guy in a designer suit. "Who's this?"
Glimmer didn't blink, or argue. "Narcissus. A mindbender, like me."
"My brother, Adonis Fortune. He's a PR consultant at my father's company."
His eyes slitted inside his mask. But he didn't laugh, or claim I was lying. Just went along with me.
I